IT STARTED HARMLESSLY ENOUGH. I was driving, my phone buzzed, and Kevin reached for it.

“It’s Ash. She says she’s going to the cheese factory in Logan and wants to know if you want anything.”

“No I’m good. Grams might want some cheese curd but I just bought her some. Text her and tell her no but thanks for the offer.”

“I’m going to text her to get some Fumunda cheese.”

READER.

Do you know what Fumunda cheese is?

This is your warning to leave if either:

1) You don’t know what Fumunda cheese is and you don’t care to find out

or

2) You know what Fumunda cheese is and you are easily offended at the mention of it.

Okay. I’ll explain.

Fumunda cheese is, well. . .it’s a slang term from a joke that goes like this, “Would you like some Fumunda cheese?” and the person says, “Fumunda what?” and you reply, “Fumunda the crack of my butt!”

(Or I guess if you want a more graphic description of Fumunda cheese you could always look it up on Urban Dictionary. It’s funny, and just kind of wrong. But so funny.)

I’m no stranger to these types of jokes. Heck, I grew up with my other sister that made inapropriate phone calls to KFC.

So when Kevin texted Ashley that from my phone, I didn’t think she’d fall for it.

Turns out, she did.

“How do you pronounce it?” She texted back.

“Fun-unda. Just with an M. You might have to ask for it,” Kevin replied. At this point we couldn’t stop laughing and Kevin wouldn’t give me my phone back.

“LOL Okay.” was the response he got back.

I started reaching for my phone to text Ashley hints or to explain. “You can’t tell her! You’ll ruin it. Just see if she does it. She hit my car (hush hush, she just bumped it with her license plate, everything’s fine). She owes me one.” Kevin was pretty insistent, and hey, FINE I’ll admit I thought it would be pretty funny. I was trying to picture it. How would she say it? “Do you have any Fumunda cheese?” or “Where is your Fumunda?” or “I’m trying to find Fumunda cheese but I don’t see it anywhere.”

I waited three hours before I got a text from Ashley. “Do the words chocolate pocket mean anything to you?” Upon asking Kevin, we determined she was calling me a butthole.

Rude.

I sent her, “So I’m assuming they don’t have my cheese?” and she replied, “Haven’t even gotten there yet. Jake put a handful of chocolate in his pocket and it melted. He thinks it’s funny. Chocolate pocket.”

We were still in the clear, and I had to wait an hour more before I get this gem.

“Um if you set me up I will kick your this word has been removed by author. Niel says it means crotch and the workers had no idea what I was asking!”

I immediately called Ashley and had the funniest conversation in my life.

Niel was still too upset to really talk, so she wanted to know exactly what Fumunda was.

OH MY WORD YA’LL. Kevin got my sister to innocently ask a cheese factory worker if they had Fumunda cheese.

“Fumunda. . .” laugh, laugh laugh, “the crack”, snicker, “of yo’ . . .” and that’s all I managed before I collapsed on the floor in a heap. I couldn’t breathe for the tears streaming down my face and the stitch in my side was becoming painful. I could hear Ash gasping for air on the other side of the phone, Niel streaming curses and mutters in the background.

They came over later and she relayed the whole story. Mind you, the entire time she told the story we were both in fits of laughter while Niel sat on the other couch, shooting daggers at us. “I looked around the store and couldn’t find it anywhere, so I asked the old lady up front, ‘Do you have any Fumunda cheese?’ She hadn’t heard of it and asked if I had checked the exotic cheese isle. I said I had, so she called another worker, about nineteen years old over and had me repeat the question. The girl got a blank look on her face, and said, ‘Yea I’ve heard of it and no we definitely don’t have it’. All the while Niel was pissy so we went outside, turns out he thought it meant something to do with the crotch area and he was so embarrassed that I’d asked for that! I think I’m going to pee my pants, that was so funny. The best part was I was completely innocent! I had no idea what I was asking for!!!”

Niel may never recover from being severely mortified and embarrassed by the whole thing, but I’m okay with that. Ash sent me a text when she left. “Thanks for the best laugh I’ve ever had”.

All that I can say is that I’m sure one day she’ll get even. We always do!

UPDATE: This was Ashley’s Facebook status last night.

“Gas for our road trip $45.00, amount Niel spent on cheese $83.00, innocently asking the cashier if they sold Fumunda cheese….priceless. Sorry Aubrey, I honestly thought this was a cheese when I offered to get you something and this was your joking request. This is the most embarrassing thing I have EVER done.”

NOW THAT I’VE EMBARRASSED GRANDMA B, (Sorry Grandma.

Grandma? Grandma! Are you still here?

Rach?

Jackie?

Anybody?)

I figured I’d post something embarrassing about myself. Kevin already stated it on his Facebook when he updated his status as, “Just found out my girlfriend can touch her nose with her tongue.”

Kind of like this:

Except even more gross because I’m a human and not a dog.

I can’t help it. My tongue is so big that when I stick it out, it reaches the bottom of my chin. It can do the roll and the wave, and because of it’s size  I probably snore at night and would be a great backup for that guy from Kiss. Add to the fact that I’m already a walking freak show – I’m extremely double jointed in the arms, fingers and thumbs and I can fit my entire fist in my mouth – and you can pretty much call me to any birthday party if you’re looking for cheap entertainment.

The problem is, most people don’t ask to see these things.

I volunteer them.

I realized this probably wasn’t the best thing to walk around advertising when Aspen looked at me from her car seat and made the accompanying “mmmmph!” noise as she stuck her tongue out and tried to lick her tiny nose.

I only made it worse when I poked mine out and stuck it up my left nostril.

I know. I know.

I’m gross.

But you know you kinda wanna see it now.

WE STAYED IN VEGAS ON THE WAY DOWN TO SAN DIEGO. Well, since we’re in Utah, a more accurate description would be, “we stayed in Vegas on the way over“ but who cares about being politically correct? I was too busy trying to figure out how to get the display on the radio to stop changing colors like a bad disco light. Took us a good half hour but we finally fixed it to just stay on one color.

Sue stayed at the hotel and had a nice hot bath while Kevin and I wandered the Strip for a few hours. Mind you, we’re both too young to gamble, drink or rent strippers (just kidding, but I do have a good story to tell about that later) so we basically just laughed at all the drunks walking around holding empty bottles of Jack Daniels people watch. We’d only been dating for a month at the time so we were both still pretty shy. Which means I didn’t beg him to go to Mandalay Bay to look at the fishies like I wanted. However, I did beg him to go to the MGM – possibly a mile walk from our hotel – so we could see the lions.

AND WE DIDN’T SEE THEM. Shoulda stuck to the fishies.

He took his camera out since I was too shy/nervous/scared to take mine so I left it at the hotel. Some scenery and photos he took:

We went in a mall and found pretty ceilings, a pretty tree

And Paul Blart!

Then we took some photos of us and wandered around for a bit. This could just be the worst, greasiest photo of us ever. Well, of me anyway.

This one is not so bad. Matter of fact, I kind of like it.

Eventually we find the M&M World Store and peruse the shelves. Kevin makes me hug this M&M who, “looks like he’s saying, ‘Mmmm chocolate’ after sniffing his finger”.

I did not make that up.

Then he decides we need some chocolate and Peanut Butter M&M’s sound quite good, so we go straight to the back to this gem.

That sweet, sweet wall of candy that would fulfill even Willy Wonka’s every dream.

And apparently I look like the devil.

Don’t mind me.

Kevin grabs a bag and fills it chock full of Peanut Butter M&M’s. I mean, STUFFED TO THE TOP THEY ARE POURING OUT EVERYWHERE type of full.

“Erm you might want to ditch some. That’s a bit much.” I advised. And rightfully so. Here is where the funniest part of the night happens. He dumps half of them out and takes them to the cashier. She weighs them and without missing a beat demands $10 for them.

TEN DOLLARS FOR A BAG OF NORMAL M&M’S.

100 DIMES.

1,000 PENNIES.

You get my drift. Kevin looks at her in confusion, looks at me and then looks down at his wallet and I lost it. I had to go walk around the corner, put my head beneath my knees and try not to cry from laughing so hard. I don’t think I’ll ever see anything funnier in my life. “I spent a lot of money on these, treasure them,” he whispers to me as I snatch the bag away from him. Now everytime we see M&M’s we laugh like idiots.

On the way back to our room we saw a fifty-ish year old man making fun of the “card flippers”. You know the type. The type that lean across you and try to hand your man a card with a photo-shopped girl and a 1-800 phone number at the top that says, “call me, will arrive in less than 20 minutes”. One of the card flippers went a bit too far when he said, “Hey! You need a woman!” to Kevin, who replied, “I’ve already got one, thanks.”

We were almost to the doors of our hotel when we hear him yell above the dingy crowd, “Why have only one? You need TWO women in your bed tonight!!”

Oh Vegas. How you never cease to amuse me.

ASHLEY AND I ATTENDED A CLASS TOGETHER LAST THURSDAY. We got lost and wandered the high school campus where it was hosted for about twenty minutes, nineteen of which Ashley spent threatening to go into early labor if we didn’t find the room and stop wandering around. But being the shy gals we are we are we didn’t want to ask anyone where it was at. Can you blame us?  The only guy we saw was riding a massive floor buffer right behind us like a creeper.

Eventually we walked past a classroom where two ladies were talking and Ashley pushed me in their direction. “You go ask them, I can’t be social like our mother”. Did you know our mother is social? Well she is. And we envy her for it.

“Hey excuse me, where is the community educa—” from the corner of my eye I see Ashley diving out of the door frame in a fit of laughter. “—-tion building?”I chuckled my way through the rest of my sentence. The ladies pointed us in the direction of the front of the building, and what do you know, it’s the room we walked right past three times already.

Our class?

It was a coupon clipping class. Go ahead and laugh. I’ll wait.

Niel and Kevin sure found it funny. “It’ll probably be hosted by some old lady”, “what’re you going to learn, how to use scissors and cut paper?”, and “someone will forget the scissors and the whole thing will be called off. ” were only half of the phrases we heard from the pair of them. But we had no shame. We are girls. We craft. It’s what we do.

Frankly I didn’t know what to think of the class when we walked in. I don’t use coupons. Hell, like I need any excuse to spend even more money, but Ashley invited me so I went, skeptical and all. It turned out to be a pretty interesting class (beside Ashley mouth-breathing on me the entire time through her cold). The coupon lady told us that last year alone, she’d saved over $1,000 at one store. I didn’t believe her, but that’s probably because my other sisiter someone I know shops at discount stores and brags about how much she “saves”, while ignoring how much she spends.

I’d say don’t repeat that to her but we’re not talking anyway.

Where were we, coups? Oh yes. Coups. The lady teaching us said she lives on a budget of $300 a month which includes food and cleaning supplies. She never buys a box of cereal for more than $.50, and she only buys brand name. She taught us how to get Goldfish crackers for $.18, and razors, deodorant, and other samples for free. Now I can proudly claim to know the best time to buy condiments (hint: it’s right about now, look for the good coups because they only come around this time of year). I know that dish washing fluid goes on a really good sale about two times a year, that the beer isle has the best coupons (and you don’t have to buy beer with it) and I learned the biggest trick of the trade: Get a coupon, wait until the item goes on sale and THEN buy that item. Double wammy if you have a few coupons that you can combine, or “stack” to use on that item. Yes it’s possible for the store to wind up owing you – they credit however much they owe you towards your entire purchase.

But.

But.

This was not the highlight of my night. No, not even close. The highlight of my night was about half way through when Ashley burst out chuckling next to me. “What?” I hissed. “I can’t. I can’t,” she chocked through silent sobs of laughter. A minute later I get a text from her that states,

I thought she meant a beauty spot on her upper lip or a witches wart by her nose. But oh, contrair! I found out I was wrong when Ashley elbowed me in the ribs and told me to look to my left, and staring me right in the face was this ladies raised, hair-sprouting, ugly, bumpy mole smack in the middle of where her hair parted in the back of her head.

Our attempt at silent laughter was ruined when Ashley stopped me from taking a photo of it on my phone. Coupon lady? I’m sorry for disrupting your class. Maybe I should have paid more attention to find that lady a coupon for some Compound W Wart Remover.

*I know this post sounds mean. I do. I just thought it was funny to have one of those high-school-I-can’t-stop-laughing moments. Mole lady, if you read this, I still think Rosco the Mole Rat wins the ugly award.*